From Midnight On
by Midori Ryuu
Summary: A series of drabbles, most likely unrelated, done mostly late at night. Warning: may get stranger as it gets later and I get more tired.
1. Proposal

A/N: I don't own anything except my own brainychunks. So don't sue; I'm not making any money off of this. These are merely drabbles born of my geekiness. Enjoy, and please don't flame if the only reason is that you dislike the pairing. I may not even like all the pairings, but I write them anyway because they bubble up in my head.

Proposal

_Oh, Christ. Oh, Merlin's beard,_ Neville thought as he wrung his hands. He chewed his lip, fingered the little box that was rather obvious in his trouser pockets, and did his best to keep from jumping out of his seat.

She was sitting right next to him. Luna. _His_ Luna, even—he considered himself the luckiest man in the world for that fact. And it had been long enough, and he was entirely sure, in spite of his nervousness, that he wanted to marry her.

They sat on the stone retaining wall by one of the gardens. A favorite spot of theirs: Neville, for the interesting plants that grew just behind them; Luna, for the morlets she said lived there. She said they looked rather like small orange lizards with scaly vestigial wings. Though, according to her, they would not be out tonight, as the full moon was too bright for their sensitive little eyes.

The moon was no trouble for them, however. Luna stared up at her namesake with that expression Neville had come to love so dearly. To some, she may have looked vacant, but he knew that she was probably contemplating moon dragons or some other fantastic beasts. Her strange playground of a mind, while often confusing, was perhaps his favorite part of her.

He shook his head of the distractions—albeit very pleasant ones—that kept him from doing what he was quite determined to do. She must have seen the motion out of the corner of her eye, for she smiled vaguely, not turning her head.

"Nargles, eh?"

"Ah… yeah," he stammered, blushing a bit.

Again, he fiddled with the tiny box, swallowing his nervousness.

"Listen, Luna…" he began tremulously.

"Neville," she interrupted him, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, as if she were talking to him about an interesting plant. "I think we should get married."

His eyes widened for a moment, but then he smiled.

"Yeah."

It occurred to him that perhaps he should be insulted, that she could speak about this so plainly. But he dismissed that. This was just her way. As he liked her to be.


	2. Uncanny

A/N: Harry Potter not mine. In case you haven't noticed, I'm too poor/talentless/American to be J. K. Rowling. I'm not making any money from this, and the only benefits I gain are my own amusement (and hopefully yours), stretching my literary legs, and something to keep me awake. So it's pointless to sue, unless you're the sort of person who likes to eat the souls of puppies. Orphaned puppies. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. In spite of that, you villain, I'll warn you: this has some very vague allusions to later books that don't quite qualify as spoilers.

Uncanny

She had an uncanny knack, that girl did, for speaking the truth very, very plainly. It flowed from her lips in the most awkward of moments, the way small talk spilled forth from others as they blushed and stammered and fidgeted their entire bodies, wishing they could be anywhere else. Yet she did not blush, did not stammer, did not fidget. And it was doubtful that she had that inherent human urge to crawl under a rock and wait to be forgotten by the world.

No, she was a strange one. 'Loony,' they called her. Her pale eyes, staring at things no one else seemed to see, a smile crossing her lips at whatever great truth, which no one else would believe, that happened to occupy her mind at that moment. Dirigible plums to open her mind, her wand behind her ear, like an antenna on a muggle television set, catching little snippets of the universe, which she completed in her mind. Because, in spite of her apparently lacking ties to reality, she was really very bright. A true Ravenclaw, all curiosity and philosophy and contemplation.

She offered a strange, strange comfort. She knew much about the things people were not adept at handling, which was part of why her moments of astute observations were so discomfiting. Death. The dead were never really gone. She did not mean that in the sense of people living on in the hearts and minds of the living. While he believed that, at least in a vague sense, Harry had heard it too many times for it to offer him any real comfort. No, the dead were behind the veil, whispering, so very close.

He did not like to admit that she understood him in a way that no one else, not Ron, Hermione, or even Ginny did. She accepted it when he wanted to be alone. She did not press him for information regarding his well-being. She merely said a few words of the truth, or created a distraction, and let him escape to be on his own.

She was so far from being like other people, and yet she seemed to understand them better than they understood themselves.

Remembering the painting on her ceiling, he was quite glad to be in it.


	3. Younger Days

A/N: Yet again, I do not own Harry Potter, etc. I merely like it very much, and find it a great amusement in the wee hours to write about it. So suing me is pointless. Do not engage in futile endeavors! Also, young Sirius is a bad role model. Do not emulate! And song reference is Terry Pratchett, a.k.a. Super Genius Awesome Man. Read Discworld now, please.

Younger Days

There was no magic to completely cure a hangover. Certainly, there were potions for headaches and nausea, spells to send your lost underwear zooming at you from whatever chandelier they happened to be hanging from. But nothing really got rid of that vaguely sick feeling, or the awkwardness of seeing people the next day who quite clearly remember you singing and pantomiming 'A Wizard's Staff has a Knob on the End,' sometimes even with pictures.

Underage drinking. Varying degrees of public nudity. James yelling up the stairs to the girls' dormitory that he loves Lily Evans, his proclamations slurred by rum (or, when they were feeling posh, wine).

But those were Younger Days, their capital letters strongly present in his mind. James and Lily were settling down, so even wild Prongs had to tone down his adventures. A baby was on the way. While certainly he was not old enough to feel the aches of the weather in his bones, Sirius was aware of that prospect looming. His old school friends seemed to feel it, too, and urged him to find a nice girl. Settle down as well.

Sure, he intended to. Eventually. He had plenty of time. Although his Younger Days were done, he was not yet Old (another capital letter in his mind). Though the world was very dangerous these days, he was still young and strong enough. He'd live through them, find his spot in the world, and settle down. Someday. Just not now.


	4. The Nature of a Girl

A/N: Harry Potter is not mine. No legal action, please. I was looking through the Harry Potter Lexicon yesterday. (It goes into some very obsessive but interesting detail.) I realized that I'm going to have to reread actual paper copies of the books (which I have at home, rather than here in my dorm), as most of the free e-books have major flaws such as several missing pages. But anyhow… I wanted to do something with relatively minor characters.

The Nature of a Girl, in which Seamus Finnigan discusses Lavender Brown

We tried dating once, in our fourth and fifth years. It didn't go well. We were good mates before, you know. Just friends. She's a good mate. But when she's your girlfriend, she gets so serious and clingy. Ron knows what I'm talking about, eh? She starts wanting to talk about 'the relationship,' wanting to know how serious you are, where you think it's going. It gets really old after a while.

Don't get me wrong, though. She's a nice girl. Bloody loyal, so long as it's to a friend rather than whatever complicated boyfriend thing she gets you involved in. Brave, too; she's in Gryffindor for a reason. Helped Hagrid out with those damned firey bastard skrewts. Even went to the DA meetings without me—she's strong-willed, if nothing else. She's great to have as a friend, like I said. Maybe a little giggly, a little flakey at times, but a good girl.

But damn if she's not the most annoying girl I've ever dated. Yeah, I haven't gone out with that many, so it doesn't mean much. But you get yourself caught up at first. She's a real looker, and she seems nice enough. Good kisser, too. Damn good kisser…

But then all of a sudden she's a step away from making marriage plans. Giving you dumb little pet names and taking up all your time. I barely saw Dean at all when she was around. It's like when you're kissing her, she's sucking your life out—don't tell her I said that, I don't mean it as mean as it sounds, really. But it's true. When you're with her, she takes up everything, so really, you don't have a life. You're just sucking on each other's faces.

I probably should've been more annoyed when she and Ron were snogging all over the common room all the damn time, but really, I was just shaking my head. A pitying smile, you know? Poor bastard. I was a bit irked when he was dancing around the issue of dumping her, though. Should've been honest from the get-go, instead of letting it all blow up, though I must admit that screaming match was a real show. And it did Ron some good, since we all know he's been pining after Hermione Granger something fierce.

We're still friends, though, she and I. Just not so close anymore, and it's a bit odd if she gets too close. All that aside, though, I'm glad she's here.


End file.
